A Fledgling's Growth
by lifechiaroscuro
Summary: It was then Peter decided it didn't matter where they were or what they were, be it a warrior, a monarch, a diplomat or a British school-goer. They loved and were loved regardless. And they had each other. A series of vignettes, based mostly in the Golden Age. On temporary hiatus.
1. Survival

**A/N: OK, so this chapter wasn't random, but most of the rest will be (to a certain extent - I try to arrange them into groups of somewhat related vignettes, so I can title the chapter properly, and I still claim the right to choose which one I want to do first out of a small list of random words, and throw out ones that I absolutely cannot think of a vignette for).**

**I'm sorry for the rather dark beginning, but these vignettes were written before I thought of doing a series and I didn't want to put them separate from this, so I just decided to put them at the beginning. Anyway, this first chapter is a mini-series of connected vignettes.**

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><p><strong>Chapter rating: K+T**

**THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING AND DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS! Okay, so since this is a series of vignettes and I really have no idea what's going to happen in them or when this is going to end, I can only put up a warning for the triggers chapter by chapter. Triggers: non-suicidal death, emotional upset, references to scenes of warfare, and (potentially) slightly disturbing scenes/descriptions.**

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><p><span>Heal<span>1

The young bird had died happy because of Lucy. But that didn't make its passing any easier on her. "The thing is," Edmund told her awkwardly at one point, "you can heal a heart or ease a mind, but you risk cutting yourself on the pieces." He pulled the sobbing Lucy closer.

"Remember, though," he told her, voice becoming more assured, "that it was you helped him 'till the end." He felt her tense body relax, and as her crying became calmer, he hesitated, then softly kissed her cheek. Then he quietly spoke, saying, "The bird is with Aslan now, we know we can trust Him."

Just as Lucy so eagerly worked to heal everyone and everything, so now would he work to heal her.

Grim

Peter, who had just come back from a campaign, had some thoughts on the death of the bird that were unusually grim. After Edmund explained his knowledge of what had happened, Peter asked a few questions, then said, "Poor Lu… though I suppose it makes it a bit easier.

Now she knows that not all death is like on the battlefield."

Touché2

"You _what_?"

"I say we let her start training as soon as she asks. She's 12, Peter. That's older than I was during my first battles."

Peter seemed to tense even more at the mention of this. "And I suppose you think we should let her into battle in a couple of years!"

"Yes, I do."

Peter stared at his brother with a shocked sort of disbelief.

"Just with the archers at first, and within boundaries of course, Peter, and only if we think she's well enough trained."

"But Edmund…" Peter stuttered weakly.

Edmund's expression softened. "I don't like it any more than you do, but this is Lucy we're talking about." He gave a brief, fond smile. "She'll end up doing something whether we like it or not, and I'd rather she was prepared as possible."

"Touche." Peter's lips twitched up, but his face grew serious again as he contemplated his brother's words.

"Peter?" Edmund drew closer to his brother.

"Ed…?"

"I'm sorry." It wasn't clear what he was apologizing about, but it didn't matter.

"It's just…"

Edmund quietly laid a hand on on Peter's arm, looking out over the Cair.

"I know."

Destroy3

Lucy had been walking with Peter in the gardens, and it seemed that she had managed to effectively forgotten the past events of the month. Then a shadow crossed her face as they were talking about how she had helped a squirrel find another home when the tree that she had lived in had been burned down. As Peter talked about how wonderful she was, always so selflessly helping her subjects, her face darkened until she looked up and spoke.

"I do it for them, but then I do it for myself… trying to heal more is destroyed. Than _I_ destroy." Lucy had never been one for holding back her feelings around her family, and as he looked into her strangely hollow eyes, he remembered what he had been trying to so desperately to push aside: Lucy had only recently gotten back from her first battle. And it had been _horrible_. It had been bloody, and the raiders had burned part of the forest. Peter knew he would never forget the screams of the dryads and those who had been trapped in it. Lucy hadn't been as much In the thick of it as he had, but he was sure she had seen and heard things she didn't want to remember. She had certainly _done_ things she didn't want to remember.

Suddenly he understood, much better than he wished he did. And… there was a part of him that thirsted to heal, too. He decided Lucy would be his project of a sort. Perhaps he would enlist Edmund, for Lucy seemed to be feeling much too haunted for his darling sister. But there was a cure for that.

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><p>1 You know me, I just can't help beginning this with something dark(-ish) The next chapter will be better(-ish).<p>

P.S. - _Heal_ is written at the very beginning of their time in Narnia, so Edmund's still slightly uncomfortable comforting Lucy.

P.P.S. - I know this sounds really weird, but Edmund's line about picking up pieces and such was actually inspired by Avril Lavigne's music video for _Smile._

2 This addresses my thoughts on both how Edmund and Peter might argue about letting Lucy train and how Lucy might sometime(s) sneak out to join Peter and/or Edmund. I feel strangely gratified for some reason, though that might just be the music I'm listening to.

3 I've actually managed to surprise myself. This is really quite dark. I didn't mean for it to be quite so depressing. Just to clear things up, I did NOT mean to imply that Lucy now only does really nice things to alleviate her guilt somewhat, but I'm saying (in this vignette, anyway) that her actions in battle have become she feels she has to atone for (a little bit, at least).


	2. Know

**NOVALIS**

**A/N: Warning! This fic includes attempts at humor! They just came to me while reading PariahCam's **_**Scatterbrained**_**. The pranks were… very creative. **

**Check out my poll and my challenge on my profile! **

**And my thanks to those who have alerted/reviewed me!  
>(In chronological order)<strong>

**Story Alerters: AutumnRoseSummerLily (also an Author Alerter!), metaphoricheart, WillowDryad**

**Reviewers: Mintey (- it was a lot of feedback, but I thank you for it! It helped me make Chap. 1 **_**that**_** much better.) **

**Favoriters: metaphoricheart**

**You guys are awesome! **

**~Caity **

**TRIGGER WARNING: War injuries.**

******Label**** [1] **

'Just' indeed! Edmund was acting the exact opposite of righteous! Really, he had no business doing anything in her room. Although those chipmunks had been rather adorable once she… but that was beside the point. He had gone too far this time, and she couldn't catch him because he had too much of a head start. However…

Peter turned the corner… and stopped short. Queen Susan 'the Gentle' was staring unseeingly at the tapestry, the expression on her face that of a calculating plotter. He slowly backed away around the corner. Poor Edmund. Peter had had his own experience with Susan's 'dark side'*, a most unfortunate incident concerning a porcupine and his underwear which he'd much rather not remember (though Peter believed the porcupine was as much of a victim as he was). He could say in complete confidence that Susan's revenge would be anything but benign.

**Faith**** [2]  
><strong> "Peter!" He heard the voice behind him, breathy and weak. He whirled around. Behind Peter, nearby, laid Edmund.

"Edmund!" Peter ran to his brother's side, lifting the fourteen-year-old's head onto his lap, paying no attention to his own injured leg and myriad other small wounds. Edmund winced as he was moved, then gasped as his head touched Peter's lap.

"Why?"

As Peter spoke, he noticed the leg of his breeches where Edmund's head lay was becoming slightly damp. Peter's breath hitched. Well, that accounted for all the blood in Edmund's hair. Peter's voice sounded a bit choked when he spoke next.

"Why do you do this for me?"

Peter's question was empty, as he knew full well, but he continued anyway.

"You could die." Peter shifted Edmund so his little brother's head was leaning against his chest. Edmund's wince was instantaneous, though Peter could see he had tried to hold it in, for his brother's sake. It was always for _Peter's_ sake, and it tore him apart. Of course the same could be said vice versa, but neither of them was in the state to voice such a fact.

Peter's voice broke. "You very well may die this time." A few stray tears slipped out of his eyes, and Edmund was acutely aware of them as they landed on his head.

Looking up at his brother, Edmund knew hazily that he would not stay conscious much longer. He said only a few words, knowing they would talk more when they returned to Cair Paravel. He would answer Peter properly, and probably end up saying more than he mean to. Edmund knew he wouldn't object.

"I know that Aslan watches over me… As do you."

"But how-? I mean we've always come back before, but-" Peter broke off, unable to say what he was really wondering- How his brother could be so _sure_.

Edmund's, however, seemed to understand, and his cloudy eyes were filled with emotion that balanced out the pain. "Knowledge is only one half, Peter." Edmund spoke to him quietly, and Peter could tell it took effort.

"Faith is the other."

Peter stared at his brother a moment, then suddenly became aware once again of his brother's injuries. Edmund looked bruised and bloody and Peter knew his brother must have a concussion, but what really worried him was when Edmund's eyes started to close.

"I won't die here, Pete…" He trailed off.

"Edmund!" Edmund's eyes slid shut and Peter grabbed his shoulder. "Edmund…" They wouldn't open! Couldn't open…? "Please…"

Staring at his brother and trying not to loose control, Peter gathered his brother into his arms and held him close, then heaved himself up. He started off with difficulty, making his way to the makeshift infirmary, carefully trying not to do anything that would hurt Edmund's gashed and concussed head or broken ribs, or any of his other various injuries. And as he walked, he thought of his younger brother's words and of Aslan, and he prayed. He prayed for Edmund, so pale in his arms, yet so young and full of faith.

**Queen**** [3]  
><strong>Lucy is a queen. You can tell by the way she carries herself and from her conduct and her will to live and love life. Lucy is a Queen of Narnia and a Golden Sovereign.

Susan is a queen. She has many connections, and great beauty, and she's welcoming and simply _charming_, they say. Susan is a queen of society, and she is The One That Turned Away.

**Razzle-Dazzle** **[4]  
><strong>When they first visited Narnia, they sent a barrage of entertainers and gifts that began a day before they arrived. They were looking to impress… and they did.

From the moment the Tisroc's son spoke, his words were honey-coated. They were meant to draw the siblings in… and Edmund saw right through them.

The Calormene government was not to be trusted. 

**Cowabunga****  
><strong> Edmund usually snuck into the water so he could surprise (at least one of) his siblings. Today, however, he had decided to do something completely different, which he hoped would surprise them all.

The eleven-year-old peered over the edge of the cliff with slight trepidation (which he thought was somewhat absurd considering all that had happened rather recently). He took a breath, preparing to jump over the edge with a shout. (After all, it was only a few yards!)

Peter and Susan swam obliviously below him. But wait-where was-

A branch snapped behind Edmund, and as he fell he thought nothing of exclamations.

He did, however, look up from the water to see a broadly grinning Lucy.

.

**Visual Effects**** [5]  
><strong> Narnia, a sullen Edmund mused when he first entered it, seemed almost unreal, as if it were done up by a visual effects team. He thought it to be a sad and dull place, and (though he would never admit it) a bit scary. Everything and everyone seemed leering and unwelcoming.

Everything and everyone, except…

Her.

He realized later that he had been lying to himself about it all, but at the time, all he knew was Her voice.

**Compromising**  
>"Peter... What are you doing with <em>ribbons<em> in your hair?"

"…I am _never_ making a bet with Lucy again..."

[1] I'll leave exactly what happened in those pranks to your mind…  
>*We have fresh cookies!<p>

[2] I know, I said the 2nd chapter would be better. It just came to me!  
>Also- a voucher for one story (whatever you request, as long as it's not too long) to anyone who recognizes the quote!<p>

[3] This is Susan after she forgets, or rejects Narnia.  
>Queen:<br>1) A woman monarch in her own right.  
>2) A woman noted for her beauty or accomplishments.<p>

[4] Yay! Another challenge word down… and in a few sentences, too!

[5] I know, movies like that weren't made then and visual effects teams didn't do things like that, but what else was I supposed to do?


	3. Quirks

**A/N: I'm **_**baa-ack. **_**Did you miss me? Sorry about how long I've been gone. Chapter 1 and 2 have been edited slightly, the way. I focused specifically on changing Edmund's last line in 'Faith'. It just sounded too cheesy and OOC. Though the replacement may actually end up being only slightly better. Oh well...**

**To WillowDryad: Yes, but luckily the boys are fictional and just **_**awesome **_**like that (*sighs at how incredibly cliché that sounded*), so we get to have our little fun without getting a life sentence. :)**

**…And I just realized how dark that sounded. Hm… **

**To MissShakespeare72: So- here's your update! I'm sad to say that it's likely neither the talk at the Cair nor my _Always_ companion will be up for a long time - I have so many other plot bunnies bouncing around in my head! (See the 'My Stories' section at the bottom of my profile for more on that, and on why I've been gone so long!) – but there will hopefully soon be some other brotherfics up for you to enjoy if you're so inclined. My next new fic up will actually be a short one about Susan in England as an adult. If you want to check out, I'd really like it. **

**Also- Companion, pretty please! (For 'Our Farewell'.) It would make me ever so happy. **

**And on my _Always_ companion- The Calormene was a nice twist. If you don't mind, I think I might extend my companion further than one chapter, depending on what comes up. **

**You know, at the rate I read and review you two, I bet I just annoy you by now, don't I? Oh well. You're stuck with me. (As a reader, anyway.) :)**

**And now, a big thanks to my:  
><strong>**Chap. 2 Reviewers- MissShakespeare72 and WillowDryad  
>New Story Alerters- MissShakespeare72, XxHanneke, mysticmoon1331 and Mila31<br>New Story Favoriter- mysticmoon1331  
>New Author Alerters- Carannlau, and the lovely monsterinourheads (that message helped to brighten my day :)).<br>****  
>~Caity :)<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter rating: K+<strong>

**TRIGGER WARNING: Emotional moments, severe physical injuries, references to warfare (and any and all forms of bloodshed/injury) and its impact on one's state of being.**

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><p><strong>Peas<strong>** [1]  
><strong>"Peter, Lucy, Edmund, dinner's ready!" Susan called.

"Um, Susan? We're right behind you." Lucy said, smiling down to Susan from a couple stairs above her.

"Oh, well come on then."

As they sat down Edmund looked at his food. Peas. Dang. 'Oh well, I just won't eat them,' he thought.

About half an hour later, Peter sat back in his chair. "That was good." Edmund agreed.

"Oh, wait, Edmund, you haven't eaten your peas." Edmund shot an irritated look at his brother, but nodded.

"Well eat them." Susan insisted. Edmund was getting rather tired of her continuous attempts to make him eat more.

Edmund refused.

When Susan still insisted, he told her, "I will say it to you once again: If you love me, you won't make me eat peas. They are not Narnian."

Susan was evidently quite frustrated, for she went so far as to roll her eyes.

"Edmund, eat your peas."

"Fine, _mother_."

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><p><strong>Pumpkin<strong> **[2]**

"You look different…"

"Edmund?"

"_Very _different. Short, and round, and- orange, you're o'ange-"

"Edmund!" Peter cried out as he jumped off his horse and ran to support Edmund, who had swayed, and nearly fallen off his horse when he fainted. "Great Lion, Edmund." Peter said to his unconscious brother (whose weight was actually starting to become rather noticeable), as a soldier took Edmund's horse, and he carried the other boy over to his own. "Now my horse is going to have to carry both of us!" His tone was rather gruff, but the undercurrent of worry was quite noticeable. "Well," he told Edmund, his worry mounting as he trotted along with his concussed brother in front of him, "this teaches me not to take your word on these things. I'll only get mistaken for a pumpkin!" He exclaimed. His voice was tight, however, and seemed shocked and worried instead of sarcastic. He looked in the direction of Cair Paravel, counting the hours until their arrival.

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><p><strong>Juice<strong>** [3] **  
>The flower juice is such a wondrous thing, Susan thinks. Always both loved and hated at the same time.<p>

She loves how it brings back her siblings from even the edge of death, revitalizing them.

She hates how using the flower juice usually means they're so close to death that it's unlikely anything else would work. She hates the wait, the frantic mess that is flying there with that diamond bottle, always hoping she won't be too late. And worse than that is those rare times when she barely gets there in time, and the breath stops. They always breathe again, yet those moments feel like eternities, and it still haunts her sometimes, those times they might not have, and how in the future they might not…

She loves the taste of the fire-flower, ethereal, indescribable, blissful, sweet. It brings her back to life.

What she hates the most, therefore, is the look that it sometimes brings to her siblings when it is she who needs the cordial. Though their hands are tender, and there is caring and worry and _hurt_ in their eyes, that look is the look of one who _knows _that someone beloved to them has been terribly hurt, who _knows_ that that person was the only target; even if that anger is only shows for a moment.

But, _Lion's Mane, _she was blessed.

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><p><strong>Red <strong>**[4]  
><strong>_There were many kinds of red that Lucy knew_.

There was the red of beauty.  
><em>Of Susan's carmine dress that she was sure Su would be wearing when they got home. <em>

The red of passion, like the rose Edmund had tucked behind her ear as he reminded her that she wasn't named Valiant for nothing.  
><em>He wished he could come, but she would be <em>_fine__. _

...And there was the crimson of blood. She could see some on Peter, and felt it on herself, and she could remember quite clearly how…  
><em>She tried not to think of that. <em>

She knew now, though, that there would be a talk in their tent this evening.  
><em>There would be many talks about such now… <em>

But then there was scarlet.  
><em>The color of her kingdom. <em>

The color of her tunic, the one she wore now.  
><em>Scarlet, so close to that terrible shade of crimson... <em>

But it _wasn't_.

It was the color of the lioness on the shield laid against a nearby rock.  
><em>Aslan calls you his lioness and he quite agreed, her eldest brother had told her. <em>

And it was the color of the lion on the shield propped up beside hers.  
><em>Peter's. <em>

Her brother, who stood slightly ahead of her, making yet another victorious speech at the end of yet another campaign.  
><em>Her first. <em>

Her brother, who brought a cheer from the lips of even the weariest of his troops, thrusting the scarlet banner into the air before they started home.

_Scarlet, the color of Narnia in all its glory. _

In that moment, she thought, Peter was the embodiment of his title, of his _country_.  
><em>Magnificent.<em>

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><p><strong>Pickle<strong>** [5]  
><strong>"…Peter?"

"Yes, Susan?"

"I know you're not the best archer, but surely even _you_ know that's not the proper use of an arrow!"

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><p><strong>Arrow<strong>** [6]  
><strong>"But it works so well… and it tastes _so good_!"

"Give me back my arrow. Now."

"Well…"

"Now that that's settled… Peter!"

"Peter Pevensie, you stop chasing me _right _now!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY DELICIOUS DILL PICKLE!"

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><p>[1] Another one written by my sister; inspired by Uyanga's <em>Don't Ask of Me<em>.

[2] See, look what I do! I get the word 'pumpkin' and give you a concussed/hallucinating Edmund!  
>I have no idea where this vignette came from, honestly. I really don't.<br>Also- this was written just a bit after the Battle of Beruna, so Peter and Edmund's relationship isn't completely comfortable yet.

[3] Once again, somehow, to me juice=death/despair… Well, kind of.

[4] And this is the one my sister thought I would turn all dark… it isn't even as bad as 'Juice'!

[5] This is, of course, a sequel to 'Pickle'.  
>Here we find out about Peter's dill pickle obsession.<br>Ah, those adolescent boys. How often they act like five-year-olds.


	4. Impact

**A/N: Yes, I'm being good to you, aren't I, posting two days in a row? (And tomorrow it'll be three!) Check out my profile for news, and see if you can figure out why. (And maybe look at my challenge/do my poll?) Anyway, here it is – the chapter containing the 'Ad esse franci' preview! **

**I would like to thank my – **

**New reviewer: WillowDryad**

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><p><strong>Chapter rating: T<strong>

**THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING AND DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS!  
>Triggers: Emotional moments, language (very mild, only one phrase), severe injury (temporary blindness), reactions to (and a vague description of) the effects of a bomb going off in a city, and a frantic scene that happens right before the bomb goes off (the characters do die, but not the slightest bit graphically – the description is extremely vague). Oh, and attempts at humor.<strong>

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><p><strong>See [1] <strong>

Peter had wished, at times, that he didn't have to witness the horrors he sometimes did. The darkness that covered his eyes now, however, was much worse, and his fumbling fingers as they tried to find his younger brother's shoulders only served to make tears start their descent down Edmund's face.

They stung slightly, warm and salty against his cold hand, and he felt his own throat tighten at the pain he had caused his sibling. "Peter…" Edmund's voice held the tiniest hint of a plea, and his hand clutched his older brother's.

Peter turned his head away, but at the moment, all he wanted was to see his brother's face.

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><p><strong>Salt<strong>** [2]**

"The amount of salt you eat will kill you one day, Edmund," Susan lectured him as he took a packet from the stand on their table.

"Yes, I'm sure that'll be it," Edmund replied mildly as he dumped two packets onto his chips.

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><p><strong>Green<strong>

The mistake had been horrible. She didn't think she'd made such a foolish misjudgment that could end up costing so many lives. She was good at all to do with court, she knew, but she also knew now that she had gotten too sure. Rabadash had proven that she couldn't always win at these twisted court games.

She stood in the capital of Calormen, that nation's great beauty, and all she wanted to see was the shores of Narnia.

All she wanted to see was green.

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><p><strong>Apples<strong>** [3] [4]**

The city seemed unnaturally quiet, and it was strong in the air. She could feel it, and it made her apprehensive. On impulse, she had run into a house, but she didn't think that was going to stop it.

It was magic.

A young man ran into the house, and without stopping, said, "I'm so sorry Issy, that I didn't tell you, and I thought I had time, but they didn't tell me and now it's too late-" he turned, and froze as he saw her. "You're not Issy."

"No," she said, feeling a bit embarrassed, "no I – "

"But I'm so sorry anyway. I'm so, so sorry."

His shoulders sunk in defeat and remorse.

She studied his face a moment, and somehow, she seemed to say the one thing that could have made him feel slightly better. "In know. But you couldn't have done anything about it."

"Thank you," he told her, and it was so earnest for a complete stranger that she wondered if he was feeling it too. But then –

"I smell apples," she told him, feeling a strange wonderment. A sense of peace came over her, and she smiled slightly, looking to the east.

There was a moment of happiness and a brief flash of pain…

and then she was no more.

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><p><strong>Percussion<strong>

"Bloody hell…"

"…Language…." a shocked Peter automatically reprimanded his brother. He stared at the city. _They were supposed to have had time! _

Unlike usually, there no sarcastic quip came as a response to his reprimanding.

It was Edmund who first regained his composure, though his distress still showed in his face. He started down the wind-swept hill, and Peter followed close behind.

Recently, it had become known to them that a particularly powerful Fell Hag had discovered how to make a magical sort of bomb. This was a powerful device was designed to spread fires throughout the area upon detonation. They could only hope that the creature could be stopped soon, and that it hadn't told anyone else how to make such a thing.

It was too late for Kyrae, though. The blackened city that spread before them was devastated.

* * *

><p><strong>Crib<strong>** [5]**

Susan pulled out the children's clothes and put them in the box she had brought up to the attic with her. As she turned, she saw the small child's bed that she and her siblings had used when they were younger. Her family appeared fairly wealthy, but it was only by doing things such as furnishing the unseen parts of the house extremely sparsely that they had managed to maintain that appearance of wealth. When they were younger, she and her siblings had slept two to a bed. There had been two people in the little bed until Edmund was about seven (at which at which point they had actually made him double up with Peter in a bigger bed for another two years), and had been in use for another seven years after that. It was in surprisingly good shape, for all that it had been through, and it had, to Susan, an air of sentimentality to it.

She thought of the big bed that sat in the upstairs room. It could be overwhelming for a child, she mused, especially one who she was sure would feel so frightened and out-of-place, to sleep in such a large bed.

Perhaps, she thought, the bed could be used again. Just one more time.

* * *

><p><strong>[1] WillowDryad has made me aware that I never explained this like I meant to, so here's your explanation - I actually never had a reason for Peter's blindness (yes, actual, physical, blindness) in mind. This scene just sort of came to me, though I did vaguely envision it as happening as a result of some sort of fight, or some such thing. Although, if I get enough people asking requesting it...<br>[2] Yes, I do realize that this is a major problem, so I'm putting a warning here: an obsession with salt will get you nothing except high blood pressure and various other health problems. I don't endorse it.  
>[3] I'm kind of channeling Steve and Helena from Warehouse 13 in this one. The whoever recognizes the quote first will get to request whatever sort of story they want, and I guarantee I'll do it! (As long as I'm capable of doing so and have no moral objections, that is.)<br>[4] The idea was that the guy had gotten mixed up in the plot to detonate the bomb, but the conspirators suspected he might turn traitor, so they moved the date they were going to set off the bomb (or maybe didn't even quite tell him what they were doing and when). So basically, in "Apples", he's just found out about the bomb. The young woman knows nothing whatsoever about this, she just has a feeling that something big is about to happen, and that it has to do with magic.  
>[5] And here's your preview of <strong>_**Ad esse franci**_**! I hope you enjoy it! **


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